The Maid& the Marquess
by Harukas scarlet illusions
Summary: Madame Elena de Montagne, the young wife of the marquis de monatgne, had to flee for her life in the face of the hideous french revolution which sentenced all aristos to the bloody hands of Madame la gullotine. When desperation and capture rears its ugly


The night was sheer blackness; a faint quarter of a moon heavily blanketed by ominous, low-hanging clouds penetrated the abysmal darkness which surrounded the two ragged travelers as they made their way on the dirt-caked pathway which skirted past the steep, threatening cliffs overlooking the pristine, white beach below. They wore long, dark hooded cloaks, which covered them from head to toe, and walked with a gait remeniscent of the peasants' hunched over strides, so as not to arouse suspicion from passing travellers.

Madame Elena Montagne, the young wife of the late Marquis de Montagne, could not help feeling a measure of truimph as she looked back on the events of the past 24-hours. They now appeared to her like distinct visions from a dream- a kaleidoscope of faces and events strewn against the blackboard of her life, coming together in a whirlwind of deceptive apparels and premeditated lies, accentuating the turning point in her life.

She turned her head sideways to look at her companion, her maid Austa. Austa had been with Elena ever since Elena's mother had passed away when she had been fifteen and Austa had been seventeen. Their closeness in age and their almost identical ressemblance to each other had formed the bonds for a great friendship. Although Elena had never spoken of her almost insane loneliness after the death of her mother, Austa had seemed to understand her just fine and sympathise with her. Soon they had become inseprable, talking and sharing close personal details only with each other. Even after Elena's marriage to the Marquis, Austa had travelled all the way from England to France to be with her mistress. To say that Austa was loyal to her mistress was an understatement; she would risk her own life if only to save her mistress's, the way she had done 24-hours ago.

Elena remembered how Austa had appeared before her weary eyes like an angel, carrying a soft lamp, which threw some much needed warmth and light into her darkened cell. Revulsion filled the pit of her stomach as she thought back to the dark, dank prison she had been forced to live in for the past month, waiting for the trial that would condemn her to her implacable fate. The walls and floor, cold as solidified ice, had nearly froze her to death, not to mention the distinct scurry of rats and the acrid smell of something dead or dying which had permeated the air in her cell for days. Just when she had thought that there could be no escape from the horrendous ignominious fate had dealt her, her maid had come to her rescue. She had never been so glad to see her maid as she had been then. Together they had escaped from Paris, unquestioned and undetected under their peasant's garments.

She lifted her hooded face to the sky and closed her eyes, taking deep lungfuls of the sweet, salty air, tasting her new status of freedom with renewed relish. She was free! Free from that awful place Paris, where peasants had turned into apathised tyrants under the name of "Libertie, Equalitie and Fraternitie", extracting their revenge for years of oppression with neither remorse nor regret for the poor aristos who were embraced by the warm, bloodied knife of Madame La gullotine every day.

"Madame, do you think M. de Montagne reached England safely?" Austa asked Elena in french, concern and worry clouding her pretty blue eyes. She wringed the small linen hankie she always carried and her shoulders hunched over as she bent towards Elena. "I hope his ship didn't approach any trouble. They say that the English channel is still swarming with algerian pirates who mainly target-"

"Do not talk about that man!" Elena yelled at her maid, through gritted teeth.

Austa grew silent, giving the furious Elena hesitant glances as if to plead with her. She knew that there had never been any love between Elena and the Marquis; Circumstances and propriety had forced them into marriage and both of them had ended up hating each other for making it happen. But they were secretive about their mutual antipathy for each other. They kept up the appearance of a loving couple amongst the ton but were close to throwing fists(vases and books, in the case of Elena) at each other when they were alone.

Austa bit her lip. She had tried to reason with Elena to give the marriage a try. But Elena was as stubborn as ever; she would not give in to any way other than her own. The Marquis wouldn't either and thus both their prides had helped bridge an abysmal gap between them; a wall neither could breach.

"Where did you say the boat will be waiting for us?" Elena asked Austa as she looked out at the darkened waters of the English Channel not far away from where they were standing.

"Only leastways from here, Mi'lady. Not far off the shoreline" Austa squinted into the darkness, in search of the boat that would take them to England. But she couldn't see anything. The fast-paced clouds overhead blocked out what light the moon deigned to give them.

"Not very far off, Mi'lady" she assured her mistress again, hoping that she was right and that boat she had hired to take them to England would be waiting for them..

They spent the next twenty minutes traversing the cliffs to the beach below. When they reached the sandy beach, the clouds gave way and pale, silvery moonlight illuminated the entire beach, making the sand glow and the peaks of each wave shimmer. The ship, that was no visible to them was docked off not very far from the shoreline, as Austa had said, acting like a beconking call to the two nearly worn-out travellers. As they walked down the beach towards the shore, Austa could make out a lone fisherman's hut standing on the dune to their right. An instinctive wariness overtook her entire being. Something about the hut didn't seem right. The hut looked empty and desolete, its windows doused of all light, but its position, very near the shoreline of France was strange.

They hadn't met with any trouble so far, which was odd since they had escaped from Paris nearly 24-hours ago. Surely the guards would have noticed Madame de Montagne missing by now, if not earlier and would be out checking all routes that led out of France. So why hadn't they met up with any patrols as of yet? Their escape just seemed way too easy.

"Mi'lady, I think we should hurry! I have this inexplicable fear that-" she stopped in mid-sentence as she heard the distinct sound of the pattering of millions of feet behind her.

"Stop right there!" a loud voice boomed out at them, echoing amongst the fartherest dunes and resounding inside their hearts.

Fear of capture and of the execution that awaited both her and her mistress rose up like a belligerent beast inside her chest, adding fuel to the adrenaline that people feel in times of desperation. She knew what she had to do, had formed a plan in the span of five seconds and was not ambivalent about her decision; it was the only thing to do. She would give up her life for her mistress.

And so with a pounding heart and a braveness that even the bravest lion would bow down before, she jumped at Elena, pushing her mistress against the foamy waters of the English channel. As she was lying on Elena she quickly whispered her plan into her mistress's ears.

"Swim to the ship, I'll distract them by taking your place. Go now!"

Elena nodded her head, telling her silently that she understood. Austa kissed Elena on the cheek, not regreting the decision she had made. She knew she was going to die and would probably never see her mistress ever again, but if that was to be her fate then so be it.

She stood up and watched as Elena crawled on the sand, moving deeper and deeper into the water and finally diving beneath the foamy surface. Elena was a strong swimmer and Austa felt no doubt that she would reach the ship safely.

She was suddenly seized by her shoulders from behind, her hands tightly bound by a pair of very strong hands. She was turned around. A captain of the guard was standing in front of her, looking down at her, for she was no taller than five feet and he a good six inches taller than her. He was surrounded by five soldiers on either side, who were pointing rifles in her face. He lifted the hood away from her face, roughly. She lifted her chin, looking at him with all the loathsomeness and arrogance an aristocrat would bestow upon a citoyenne of the soldier who had just apprehended her.

"She is her" the captain proclaimed, looking into Austa's face, making her flush with embarassment under the handsome man's penetrating gaze. She was mentally thankful that she and Elena both had pretty much the same features- the same curly dark hair, the same oval shape and almond eyes. The only difference lay in the color of their eyes; Elena's was a beautiful wintery green, while Austa's mirrored a stormy ocean.

"The Madame de Montagne?" a soldier standing to the captain's right, began. "But-"

"Do you question my intelligence, Citoyenne?" The captain replied, silencing him with a withering glance. "This is the marquess. There's no doubt about it. I would know this pretty face anywhere." He shot Austa an intense look which sent chills running up and down her spine. She blushed and turned away from the Captain, focusing her gaze upon the ocean which was once again the inky blackness it had been before, as the moonlight was doused by another stream of floating clouds.

"Come! Our mission is completed!" The captain ordered as he started walking towards the cliffs.

"But what about the maid?" another soldier thought to question.

"Our job was to capture the Marquess. I see no reason to pursue the maid!" The captain bellowed out at the soldier, his irritation with the soldiers' questions evident in his angry grey eyes. He turned away from the group of soldiers with an angry curse that sounded something like "Pure insolence".

The rest of his troops fell in line behind him, silently, not daring to speak a word lest the captain yell at them as well, their rifles tucked behind their arms.

Austa who had shocked into silence by that spontaneous display of anger earned a poke from behind to get her moving. She stumbled the first few steps as the immense relief at having saved her mistress from the horrendous fate that awaited her in the bloodied embrace of Madame la gullotine, gave way to the fear she felt for her own life. She was going to die, come morning if the committee of public so desired it. Her shoulders shook as one tear after another rolled down her cheeks, evident of the agony and despair she felt at the fate she had carved for herself.

If only she had had an inclination as to what the captain planned to do with her. That would have at least caused to cease her anguished thoughts…..


End file.
